


Sleep, Dear Listener

by LeilaSecretSmith



Series: Dragon's Son and Void's Daughter [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Brotherhood, Gen, Lucien is best spectral assassin, The Night Mother loves her children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6142170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilaSecretSmith/pseuds/LeilaSecretSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Dark Brotherhood Listener Amara gets herself into a bit of a sticky situation by bleeding out on Shadowmere's back... in the middle of a Dawnstar snowstorm. Fortunately for her, the Night Mother hears her children's pleas. (Just a little blurb I wrote to fend off a panic attack)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep, Dear Listener

               The world is nothing but white around me, and the wind roars so loud in my ears that I am deaf to anything else; the world is numb beneath me, and even though my mind tells me that Shadowmere’s flanks must be rolling with each labored step, I cannot feel it. I feel only rhythmic lances of searing pain deep in my torn muscles and broken bones, deep and burning where even the frigid numbness of the Dawnstar snowstorm cannot touch. My breath comes in strained, frozen gasps, the moisture of my own lungs freezing on my bloodless lips, and my eyelashes are coated with crystallized tears, virtually frozen together.

               _Mother,_ I plead in my hazy, ill-rested mind. The sanctuary seems so close and yet so far; even if Shadowmere gets me to the door in time, I do not think I can slide to the ground and stand, much less walk into the sanctuary. Where is the door? Where is mother? Where are my siblings?

               The reins, which have been lying limply in my stiff hands for divines know how long, are suddenly taken from me; Shadowmere changes direction slightly and speeds up at the urgent guidance of another. I jerk sleepily, raising my eyes and seeing a blurred blue shade walking beside me, leading my horse.

               “L-lucien?” I whisper, bewildered by the pain and the numbness and the beckoning greyness that encroaches on the edge of my vision.

               “ _I am here, little sister_ ,” the shade whispers, the deep, growling timbre of his voice carrying through the howling storm. He lays an incorporeal hand along my thigh, and I can feel the vague tingling that accompanies the touch of such a spirit; oddly, it feels warm instead of cold. “ _The Night Mother has heard you. You will not die on this night.”_

               I am glad, but fading rapidly. My head bobs closer and closer to the ebony neck below me, and even the fiery pain is beginning to fade. Time loses all meaning as I slide inexorably into Vaermina’s realm, what little strength I had fading from my limbs. My forehead brushes against the hair of my steed’s hide, coarse black against pale white.

               “ _Little sister, wake up._ ”

Lucien’s voice once more breaks the spell of the howling winds, and I jerk back upright, an automatic response of “just five more minutes” falling from my numbed lips.

“ _Amara, listen to me,_ ” he commands, and I force myself to obey. “ _I have been given strength to carry you only a short distance, little sister. You must stay awake and call for help once I lose my form. Can you do this?”_

Carry me? I raise my eyes from Shadowmere’s sweat-flecked head and see that the door is in front of me, the otherworldly pulses of Brotherhood magic soothing my confusion and pain. My tongue is thick and heavy in my mouth, but I force it to move in a delirious reply.  

“Yes, Lucien.”

The fading is getting worse as he slides me from Shadowmere’s back, but the pain from the pressure of his ghostly arm against my brutalized back is enough to bring me back with a choked scream. I am vaguely ashamed of the hot tears that slide down my cheeks as the spectral assassin shifts his grip on me, my cheek pressed against his ghostly shoulder, but the feeling is detached, distant.

“ _Hold on, little sister,”_ he whispers urgently to me as the Black Door opens seemingly of its own accord, allowing us entrance to the Dawnstar Sanctuary. Lucien makes it down the stairs before setting me down against the wall and abruptly disappearing with one last brush of his fingers against my face. Shivering violently, blood leaking from cuts all over my body, I remember his last command and hoarsely call out.

“Cicero!” I yell weakly, my voice scratchy and shaking. “Babette! Help… help me…”

 My vision dims, the flickering lights of the brazier growing faint. My ears are suddenly filled with a horrible ringing-buzzing sound, and my breath seems to catch in my lungs, refusing to allow me to breathe.

“Mother…please…” I beg.

Finally, finally, an answer. There comes the scrape of metal against stone, a garbled cry, and the pounding of many running feet. My eyes are sliding shut of their own accord, as if weighed down by lead, but I make out the silhouette of Nazir against the wall sconces before they close completely. He hauls me up from the floor, fingers like fire against my frozen skin, speaking words I can no longer understand; just before I black out I hear Mother’s whispered voice in my head.

“ _Sleep, dear listener._ ”

 

[ ](http://imgur.com/H3NZjaX)

 


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